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UNDONE
Facing God, Assessor so great
my soul wrestles for earnest plight
midst battle for achievement flight
as I confess my undone* state.
Despite grievous sorrow and pain
my heart seeks the Lord Who makes whole
fixing glitches of undone role
toward wondrous thanksgiving gain.
Upon Christ’s inviting altar
I lay my undone goals with hope
begging for help so I can cope
since He’s my Rock of Gibraltar.
Trusting the Almighty for grace
against torture of being undone
so that good success could be won
I fix my faith to His truth’s brace.
Now, anchored by the Saviour’s stand
my spirit claims victory seal
assured of His miracles' deal
that I’ve done my best by His hand.
*Isaiah 6:5 Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.
January 23, 2024
3rd place, "Pick-A-Title, Vol. 41" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 2/9/2024
Copyright ©
Beata Agustin
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